Companionship
by Ghilanna Faen Tlabbar
Summary: [Oneshot][AUish]The view from the Powell Estates was rather bleak today...[RoseMartha Friendship][NinthDoctor!Sighting]


**A/N:** It seems to me that people either like Rose or Martha, not both. Martha!fans like to point out how blonde and stupid Rose they thought she was, and Rose!fans come right back at 'em with how they view Martha as cynical, arrogant and mopey. Which got me thinking. What if Martha and Rose had been friends, years ago? And that's what this fic explores. Hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: Do you see me playing in the TARDIS's costume closet? No? Then I probably don't own the show.

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"Mum, can Martha and I make some popcorn?"

"_May_ Martha and I make some popcorn."

The little blonde looked curiously at her mother as she shut the door behind her and her friend. "Since when has that mattered?"

"Since I decided it did." Jackie Tyler smiled warmly at Rose's friend. "Hello, Martha."

"Hello, Mrs. Tyler."

"To answer your earlier question," Jackie said, turning back to her now-sullen daughter, "We're all out. There's crisps in the cabinet, eat them."

And with that, the lady of the Tyler house turned on her heel and left to go back to the novel she was reading. Rose threw Martha a look. Martha shrugged. "I don't mind, really. As long as it's edible, and it's salty, I'll eat it. I've had too much chocolate over the last few days…ugh." She smiled. "I love chocolate, but now I don't want to eat it _ever_ again. Or at least until next week." At that pronouncement, Rose giggled, and they both ran to the kitchen to commandeer the bag of crisps. Then up the stairs, up to Rose's room and the shabby balcony connected to it.

The view of the Powell Estates was rather bleak today, as a light drizzle was falling. On a nearby wall, someone had spray-painted "Bad Wolf" in big, "scrawly writing" as both of the eleven-year olds called that style of graffiti. The words meant nothing to Martha, but intrigued Rose. Under the words was a pile of rubbish. There was only one person in the general area of the Powell Estates that the two girls could see, a man in a dark leather jacket who seemed to be just loitering about. For a few minutes, the two girls did nothing but sit under the protection of the balcony's overhang and eat their crisps, watching him.

Within a couple minutes, the man strolled out of sight and from the sound of it, got into and started up a car that was very old. It was making horrible wheezing sounds, and Rose and Martha had to cover their mouths to keep from absolutely howling at the noise.

Once they had calmed down, Martha turned to Rose. "I was talking to Mickey Smith today. You know, the bloke who's really good at fixing things."

"Oh, yeah?" Rose appeared nonchalant. In truth, she was trying to control herself from blushing.

"Mmmhm." Martha grinned mischeviously and took another handful of crisps. "He said to say hi. I think he _fancies_ you!"

"Mickey Smith, fancying me? Not a chance."

"Here comes the bride, all dressed in—AGH!"

As soon as Martha began to sing, Rose tackled her. They rolled over the bag of crisps, crunching it, giggling. They play-fought for about three minutes, then disentangled themselves in exhaustion. Rose looked despondently into the bag. "It's all crumbs," she said in her most sepulchral tones, sending the two girls into another mad fit of giggles.

It wasn't until an airplane passed overhead five minutes later that they had calmed down fully. Rose looked up wistfully at the plane overhead. "Wouldn't it be fun to be a pilot?" She said, more to herself than to Martha.

Martha was digging through the bag of crisps, trying to find one that wasn't completely crushed. "Hm?"

"You know." Rose turned to her friend with a somewhat fanatical glow in her eyes. "To see all those exotic lands, a different one every day or so. It's like, you'd say "I'm jetting to Timbuktu tomorrow" and it would be no different than saying "I'm taking cash register duty". I'd love to live like that."

"Rose Tyler, you're scaring me." Martha had turned from her unsuccessful scavenging to look at her friend. "No seriously, stop looking at me like that."

Rose smiled. "Fine. Tell me about what you want to study for, then we'll see who's scaring who."

"I want to be a doctor." Martha's dark eyes flashed the same look Rose's had, only far more intense. "I want to cure sicknesses, and not just your typical flu victims, I mean like cancer and dengue fever and the really rare, really nasty diseases. I want to save lives, hundreds, thousands. I want to—"

"Okay, okay." Rose had actually shrunk back, Martha's eyes were hectically brilliant. "Now _that_ was scary."

"Sorry."

The two girls were silent for a minute. Well, as silent as they could be, for Rose had taken over the crisp bag and was rustling through it. Suddenly, Martha grabbed her friend's arm and nodded over in the direction of the "Bad Wolf" graffiti. "Look, Rose, it's that man again."

Both of the girls looked down at him, watching him intently. He seemed to be studying the graffiti intently, frowning. Then, as if the girls' insatiable stares had been tangible objects poking him in the back, he turned from the wall and waved. Stunned, the girls waved back, but they were nowhere near in as much shock as when he strode over to the balcony as if he had known them their whole lives. "Hello, Rose!" He called in a cheery Northern accent. Her mouth fell open. " 'ho's your friend, then?"

Without deigning to answer him, both girls fled inside, shutting the door to Rose's bedroom behind them. They didn't hear his slight chuckle, but they wouldn't have been any more reassured than they were now.

"Who was he?" Martha demanded.

"I…have…no…idea…" Rose responded faintly, staring at the door.

"Well, he seemed to know you."

"I have no idea."

The two girls looked at each other. In that moment, a tacit understanding of what was to be seemed to be swirling in malevolent tendrils about the two girls…of Rose the Beloved and Martha the Betrayed. And both of them seemed to know what role the man outside would play in their lives in years to come.

Each girl murmured one word, more to herself than the other.

"Fantastic."

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**A/N:** I apologize for the relatively poor quality of this story; it was completed at 2 am and edited at 11 am the same day. If you'd like me to change anything, please let me know in a somewhat civil way. Thank you. 


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